


Time of my life

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom
Genre: Canon, M/M, almost to the detail, but I wrote it off what I can remember and I'm not that good with memory, most characters except Harry and Xander are just mentioned, or that good of a stalker, suspend belief, there may be some random mistakes, this will be marked as completed but I may continue it, though as I add chapters - potentially - more will start having dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:22:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Xander is 1. Not drunk enough, 2. thirty-one-years-old, and 3. not impressed by celebrity culture. His friends drag him to an SNL after-party in an attempt to get him to meet Harry Styles, the twenty-year-old, international pop star and newest member of their little gang.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll write more. Maybe I won't. This wrote itself. There may be typos and grammar mistakes galore because no one proofread it and I'm fine with that. If you wanna point it out in the comments, then thank you!
> 
> PS: no disrespect made to Jeff. I love him. There are just some leads thrown here and there for potential future chapters and that little dig was one of them. Ritz-like-the-cracker was one of them as well, perhaps you'll spot the other ones.

It’s been a while since the last time Xander was the littlest bit fazed by meeting celebrities. Having lived on both US coasts and having friends in the entertainment business also in both, he’s learned by now that people can fall into only two categories once they reach certain level of fame. No matter how they present themselves in public, in private they can either be authentic: unabashedly bratty and demanding — ‘I know I’m better than you and I see no reason to pretend I’m not’ — or fake. The second kind is just like the first one, but they have the decorum to act as thought they haven’t changed and are still ‘just normal, just like you’.

While some of them might generally be nice and pleasant, Xander’s yet to come across one that didn’t eventually reveal what being important, famous, rich and successful really does to a person. Granted, that’s not the case for (most) D and C list celebrities, so he’s not expecting the sensation of being an outsider at this particular party.

Tonight is one of the first ‘firsts’ he’s had in a while. In the thirty-one years he’s been alive (during which he’s combined parties and famous people countless times), he’s never been to a Saturday Night Live after-party. Some of his friends have told him that they’re not exactly wild, but that they’re always quite fun. Some of his friends are also friends with one of the members of the musical guest band. Some of his friends might have lied to him about the quality of these parties to get him to come, because though the ‘not exactly wild’ part seems to be an accurate description, the ‘quite fun’ bit is still missing. And he’s been here for an hour.

Most of SNL’s current cast is unknown to him; he hasn’t bothered watching the show since Seth Meyers left earlier in the year. Also, the host is a redhead actress he feels he’s seen somewhere but whose name he wouldn’t be able to place for money. For some reason, even though she hasn’t been in the show in years, he’s seen Kristen Wiig roaming around, but that’s about it. Oh, well, and the band.

He knows their name, has seen some photos here and there in the media and has heard a couple of their heavy rotation songs on the radio. Xander’s not some stuck-up snob, and he’d be the last person to judge musical tastes; he’ll proudly whip out his 80s gay divas playlist whenever a get-together needs a bit of a pick-me-up, after all (and this one could certainly use it). But British boy bands composed of kids ten years his junior are out of his area of expertise, and his sister grew out of them by the time Westlife started making the rounds.

The allotted front man of the band has several of Xander’s friends absolutely enamoured, though, and his crowd isn’t easy to please, so oddly enough Xander’s been kind of looking forward to meeting this Harry Styles kid, which is not a feeling he gets very often.

His friend Nadine is currently either dating or pretending to date him — Xander can never tell the difference and people that hang around in celebrity circles never gossip normally, in a straightforward way, with names and actual verbs. It’s all secret smiles and coded words everyone just ‘gets’ (or, Xander suspects,  _acts_ like they get). The point is that Nadine has high standards and has never pretend-dated anyone as far as Xander knows, so the kid (who’s _twenty_ ) must be awesome either way.

Harry’s arrival in New York was treated as an event. From what Xander’s heard, he does come around several times a year, but it’s always during tour or when his band has a million interviews lined up. Spending time with him then was hard, spending _quality_ time with him then, Xander’s been told, was impossible. But now he got two weeks with only one official appearance in the agenda. So, plans were meticulously organised, museum dates booked, restaurant spots reserved. They even rented an entire apartment despite the fact that all these people have big enough properties to host Harry and his entire entourage themselves.

Anyway, Xander’s been away for all of it. Family duty called in Pennsylvania and he could only make it back now, which is one of Harry’s last days before he heads back to the motherland. It’s a pity, but just like Xander’s unfazed by meeting celebrities, he’s also unfazed by _not_ meeting them. Sure, he’d like to get to know the kid, but if he doesn’t... eh, he’ll survive.

He sips on a vodka-tonic that’s ninety-five percent tonic with a dash of vodka and suppresses the rude eye-roll his body is itching to express as he leans back on the bar. He’s lost sight of Waseem and Matt, and Nadine spent the whole night dancing away with Glenne. He can spot Jeff, Glenne’s boyfriend and Harry’s unofficial manager near the bathroom doors, but they haven’t been properly introduced and Xander’s not in the mood to meet who he suspects is the product of profound industry nepotism.

Harry, the person he was  _supposed_ to meet here, is nowhere to be seen. Xander’s half convinced he and Nadine are pretend-dating after all, though he also sort of wonders if the kid does actually exist. Maybe he’s like those virtual reality Instagram models. That’d explain a lot. The few pictures he’s seen of him here and there show a face that’s too pretty to belong to a real person.

He’s entertaining himself with those ridiculous and pointless thoughts when the techno music that blended one song with another switches abruptly. The main track of Dirty Dancing starts blasting through the speakers and several people start laughing as they make their way somewhere to Xander’s left.

He tries to find the source of sudden amusement without moving from his spot, but there are too many people in the way. He downs the rest of his tonic-vodka, places the glass on the nearest flat surface and decides to venture a quick visit to the restroom to check on his hair, but before he can take two steps, he scans the room and sees the man himself, Harry Styles, wearing a see-through oversized shirt undone to his navel, skinny jeans and a fedora, step on one of the bars and pull Kristen Wiig up with him.

They’re both clearly way more intoxicated than Xander (which begs the question, is there a secret stash of actual alcohol reserved for A and B List celebrities?). Everyone around them is clapping and laughing and the mood in the whole venue suddenly switched from business soirée to actual after party of one of TV’s most legendary shows.

Xander straightens his back and levels his shoulders subconsciously. His eyes are glued to Harry and Kristen. Their dancing is clunky, they have no coordination and they seem to be more focused on yelling the lyrics to each other than anything else, but neither of them can stop grinning. As far as Xander knows, Kristen and Harry had never met before, so perhaps his friends weren’t that far off with the praises, if the kid can mesmerise a woman with such a long career in the industry and that’s twice his age so easily.

Just as abruptly as they hopped on the bar, Harry and Kristen hop off it and they only dance for a couple more seconds before separating with a kiss on each cheek. Xander doesn’t have time to move a muscle when he notices Harry’s making a bee line towards him.

After months of his friends attempting and failing to get Xander to show actual enthusiasm over meeting _the_ Harry Styles, Xander can’t help but thinking that all they had to do was actually get him to make eye contact with the dude. Because, Christ.

“Hi, I’m Harry. Xander, yeah? Mates with Waseem and the lot?” Harry says as he thrusts his sweaty right hand towards Xander. “Soz, ’m a bit damp,” he adds once Xander shakes it.

“Yeah, that’d be me.” Xander lets go of Harry’s hand and stuffs it in the front pocket of his jeans. “And don’t worry about it. We’re all a little damp after that performance of yours.”

Harry grins, crosses his arms and widens his eyes. “Aye? Huh... that’s interesting.”

It’s only then that Xander realises the innuendo in his words. “No, I meant — I wasn’t — I just...”

Harry’s grin turns into a smirk. “You don’t have to explain, mate. I’m flattered I’ve managed to make you wet. ’S quite the accomplishment with anyone, but with men...”

“I didn’t say I was w —” Xander huffs to himself and shakes his head. “Nevermind. I don’t think even I know what I wanted to say.”

“Oi, no, look, I’m just taking the piss.” Harry furrows his brow and puts up a hand in a soothing gesture. “I understand what you meant. Wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Really.” Xander shoots him a wink in a weak attempt to regain some of his chill. “I was just having an internal monologue about how unbothered I am by celebrities and you came and knocked me on my ass without breaking a sweat. So thanks.”

“Hm. Odd.”

Xander tilts his head. “What’s odd?”

“Nothing, just filing information away.”

“What kind of information? And for what purpose?”

“World domination?” Harry says, almost in a chuckle. “Nothing. Forget about it.”

There’s a lull in the conversation then that puts the room back into focus for Xander. Why are he and Harry flirting? Very awkwardly, sure, but that was definitely flirting. Is Harry even into men? Sure, he’s dressed flamboyant enough but Xander’s learnt by now to ignore stereotypes and not to make assumptions, especially when it comes to people in the industry.

The thing is, if Harry _were_ into men, then wouldn’t Queen Waseem have said something in the numerous times he talked to Xander about him? An, ‘Oh, and by the way, he also plays for our team,’ would’ve sufficed. Is very unlike Waseem not to disclose that kind of information.

Xander’s got two options right now. One, continue with the conversation, drink about fifty tonic-vodkas (or maybe ask Harry to fill his glass with some of the secret celebrity alcohol) until reaching enough of a buzz, go home, and spend his entire Sunday recreating every interaction between him and Harry — between everyone and Harry, really — until he can come to a conclusion. Then give up because he’s too confused and simply call Alexa to ask her. Then spend forty-five minutes on the phone with Alexa discussing anything _but_ what he wanted to ask. Then become too self-conscious to even ask her about it. Then have flashes of wondering about it for the foreseeable future.

The other option is to pretend he’s drunker than he really is to excuse his boldness and just...

“So, like... are we flirting?” Xander bites his lip. “I mean, I know this is my lame, drunk attempt at flirting, but I can’t really tell with you.”

Harry lets out a loud cackle that he doesn’t seem to be able to hold in and shakes his head. “People usually tell me I flirt subconsciously and that I don’t know how to turn it off —”

“Oh, God.” Xander looks down at his feet and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry,. This is so embar —”

“Stop!” Harry laughs again and searches for Xander’s eyes as he lifts his gaze. “Let me finish, yeah?” He waits for Xander to nod to continue, “I was gonna say that I must be severely off my game if you can’t tell that I’m flirting my arse off.”

Xander gives him a soft smile. “Did you seriously just say ‘arse’?”

“Bloody ’ell, cor blimey.” Harry mimics the smile. “First time I’ve to spell out I’m English. Usually the accent gives it away, mate. Crikey.”

Xander finds himself cackling louder and louder at every overused British cliché. “The accent or Seventeen Magazine,” he says. “I honestly thought the ‘arse’ bit was made up. Like every other word you just used.”

“Watch it, I sometimes use some of ’em unironically.” Harry leans against a wooden pillar behind him. “The lads’d probably say I’m posh usin’ that word. Not that many people my age still do, I don’t think. ’M just a bit pissed and it kinda came out that way.”

With a chuckle, Xander tilts his head and looks at the gorgeous bone structure of the man ten years his junior in front of him. The shit lighting in this place shouldn’t be this kind to him.

He shakes his head. “Do you know how I feel right about now?”

Harry’s eyes snap to Xander’s. Were they focused on Xander’s mouth just now or is he imagining things?

“Pray tell,” Harry says. “How do you feel Xander Ritz-like-the-crackers?”

Xander’s smile widens. “It’s a shit reference you won’t get — you were probably still in kindergarten when it aired — but that Friends episode where Ross is trying to flirt with the pizza girl —”

“When he talks to her about gas?” Harry says, amused. “That they put in the smell ’n all that? ’M offended you’d call anything from Friends a shit reference and confused on how you got reminded of that now...”

“You told me you were flirting with me and like an idiot I changed the subject to accents and vocabulary. It wasn’t even nerves. I just focused on the wrong part of the sentence ’cause I’m an idiot.”

“Well, I’m offended once again...” Harry pushes himself off the pillar and cracks his fingers. “’M gonna go home now cuz I’m knackered, but I was plannin’ on askin’ Nadine for your number and you just called yourself an idiot, twice at that, and managed to insult my taste in men in the process. Tsk. Terrible.” He throws Xander a wink over his shoulder as he turns away, then walks towards the back door, kissing cheeks and patting shoulders of strangers and friends alike.

As Harry disappears through the crowd, Xander finds an empty spot on one of the sofas scattered around the venue and drops himself in it. His phone vibrates in his pocket then, and he has to manoeuvre to get it out without standing up. As soon as he glances at the unsaved number on his lockscreen, he has to run a hand down his face, just to check he’s not dreaming. When he opens his eyes again, he notices the text is _long_.

He unlocks his phone and goes straight to the notification.

> **Couldn’t find Nade, but I ran into Waseem on my way out. I hope it’s okay that I told him off for not letting me know you like dick one of the ten thousand times he talked to me about you. Not even when I said, and I quote myself here, ‘Bloody hell, crikey, mate, cor blimey. THAT’s the famous Xander? I’d lick him.’ Anyway, if it wasn’t clear, this is Harry. And bloody hell, crikey, mate, cor blimey. You’re fit as fuck. Thank God you were flirting back. Hope I’m not being too forward. Text me back. H .x**

Just then, another text comes in.

> **If you want. Text me back if you want. Thank you. H .xx**

Xander blows a raspberry in the air in an attempt to collect his wits. Jesus Christ.

He takes a deep breath and, as he ponders on how _the fuck_ to reply to a text that contained the words ‘I’d lick him’ (and that had surprisingly good grammar, given how intoxicated its writer was), he vaguely thinks that there may be more than two kinds of celebrities after all. Or perhaps Harry Styles simply has his own category. In everything.


	2. Chapter 2

   

 

**

 

“Your apartment is huge, man.” Waseem pushes past Xander as he takes in the living room. He makes his way towards the open door to the balcony quickly and leans forwards on the railing.

Xander lets out an airy laugh and follows him. “Hi, Waseem. Welcome. How’s your day been?” He leans sideways next to Waseem and tilts his head to look at him.

“Oh, it’s been fine. Boring. Still hate my job.” Waseem rolls his eyes. “Since when are you this rich, dude? Look at this view.”

“This isn’t my place, Was. It’s Max’s. I’m just living here temporarily. Do you want me to order something? Sushi?”

Xander walks back inside, drops himself on the massive black leather couch that dominates the mostly white and very unfurnished living room and grabs his phone. He can hear Waseem’s scoff all the way from the balcony.

“Please,” Waseem says as he pokes his head through the opening of the glass door. “You and Max own the same company and do the same amount of work. If he can afford this place, so can you.” He turns around and hugs himself as he admires the view once again. “Sushi, yeah.”

“Can you come in and close the door? It’s the middle of December. You’re probably freezing.”

“Am not,” Waseem says with his mouth twisted to the side in his attempt to hold in his smile as he makes his way to the sofa. “Order some egg rolls as well!”

“That’s Chinese...” Xander deadpans. “Sushi’s Japanese.”

“I know that!” Waseem sits way too close to Xander for how big the sofa is. He probably is freezing. “I just want egg rolls, man.”

“Cool, so I’ll just order food from seven different restaurants at the same time.”

“You’re rich, Xander.” Waseem stands again and starts wandering. “Stop complaining. Look at this place!” He peeks inside the make-believe fireplace and then turns towards the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the living room.

“We’re not rich,” Xander says. “We do alright, but Max can’t afford this place. He’s just that reckless. So, I’m gonna take advantage of my brother’s stupidness and stay with him until I can afford a place of my own, which won’t be for a few months.” He unlocks his phone and opens the chat with Max. “On that note, I’m gonna text him to bring the food and also some wine, that cool?”

“Sure,” Waseem says distractedly. “Are you spending New Year’s Eve in LA?”

Xander lifts his head from his phone and finds Waseem holding his plane tickets. Fuck. He’d forgotten he’d left them in the paperwork mess that is the breakfast bar.

“Yup,” he simply says. He prays Waseem won’t keep prodding.

“ _You_? You’re spending New Year’s Eve in LA? What?” Waseem is studying the tickets as if they were some form of alien intelligence. “With who?”

“My sister.” Xander gets up and puts his phone in his pocket again. “Max’s on his way.”

“But she always comes here, not the other way around.” Waseem furrows his brows. “I talked to her a few weeks ago and she mentioned going to a party with us here. What changed? Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then what —”

“Oh my god.” Xander lets his arms fall on his sides and hit his thighs in annoyance. “I wanted to be in LA the 2nd of January and couldn’t find any tickets so close to the date! I was forced to buy last-minute cancellations for next week. Can you drop it now?”

“No?” Waseem says with a chuckle. “Why do you _have_ to be in LA the 2nd?” Before Xander can reply, Waseem gasps dramatically. “Harry!” He puts down the tickets to hold his middle as he laughs — he looks like an evil cartoon. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and when he does, he wipes away actual tears. “Harry’s spending January in LA,” he finally says. “He gets there the 2nd. You’re doing all this to go see Harry. I can’t!”

“Then don’t...” Xander says in a sombre tone. “Don’t you dare mention it in front of Max. I only got him to stop asking about it today.”

“He doesn’t know? You’re fucking an international pop star and your brother doesn’t know? Does your _sister_ know why you changed _her_ plans at least?”

“I’ve decidedly _not_ fucked Harry. Not even close. Haven’t even kissed him. Haven’t even seen him more than once.” Xander sighs. “And of course Georgia knows.”

“Wait, you didn’t fuck? You’re altering your whole life, your sister’s plans, and he hasn’t even touched your dick?” Waseem blinks as if he were stunned. “What is going on?”

“I have absolutely no idea. He asked me to go to LA to see him again. I said yes.” Xander shrugs. “He said he’d get there the 2nd of January and I just fucking wanna see him as soon as I can, so I got the best tickets I could find.”

“Do you text a lot?”

“Every single fucking day, Was. All day long. The only reason we’re not texting right now is that it’s after midnight in England.”

“Oh my god.” Waseem sits down dramatically on one of the breakfast bar’s benches.

“He’s really funny?” Xander shrugs once again. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me but I miss him all the time. I’ve met him once.”

“Oh my god!” Waseem covers his face with his hands and screeches into his palms, “That’s so cute!”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was gay? This could’ve happened so much sooner!”

Waseem drops his hands and lifts his head. “He’s not gay. He’s Harry. And I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d just fuck once or twice and then it’d be awkward for all of us. And I don’t know... I wanted you to get to know each other before you had the chance of getting in the sack together, so maybe you’d decide not to and become friends? You’re exactly each other’s types physically, so if you’d known you would’ve jumped into it. But I also knew you’d hit it off really well, so...”

“That sounds like the perfect setup for a relationship...” Xander frowns. “So...?”

Waseem scoffs. “He’s an international pop star and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you were in college. How the fuck was I supposed to know either of you would even think of a relationship? He’s also eleven years younger than you...”

“He’s almost twenty-one and very mature for his age. It’s fine,” Xander says. “And he was the one to suggest waiting. I did want to just fuck a few times, so don’t give me too much credit.”

“I can’t believe I’m witnessing the birth of the greatest love story of the 21st century!” Waseem says almost in a shout. “The closeted twentysomething boybander and the thirtysomething former lacrosse player. It’s straight out of a rom com!”

Xander chuckles despite himself and shakes his head. “Shut up.”

 

**

 

Georgia sighs for what seems like the millionth time in the last thirty minutes and Xander is on his last straw.

“Alright, _what_?” He lets his feet fall on the side of the chaise, sits up and drops the book he was pretending to read on his lap. He looks at her murderously. “What? What can I do for you?”

Georgia burrows lower on the couch and, without ever taking her eyes off the TV, begins switching the channels aimlessly. “I didn’t say a word.”

“No, but you keep making that noise and I’m gonna lose it.” He throws one of the thousand velvety decorative pillows at her, but she moves her head at the last second and it misses her face by an inch.

“Nah, you’re old and hearing things.” She flicks her gaze towards him just long enough to wink at him, then back to the TV. “Ooh, Die Hard. Nice.”

“Seriously? I can’t read when you’re watching explosions…”

 “Go to my room and close the door.”

“This apartment is three-square-feet and the walls are paper thin. What’s closing a door gonna —” he gets interrupted by someone screaming and gunshots on the TV. “Georgia, c’mon!”

“ _You_ wanted to come stay with me, didn’t you? _You_ forced me to miss New Year’s Eve in New York.” Georgia’s looking at him now. And also waving her index finger menacingly. “And for what? To stay in like a loser and not do what you came here to do! So suck it up. I’m watching Die Hard. If you don’t like it you can _call your boyfriend and go meet him_!” she practically yells the last bit.

“He’s not my boyfr —“

“Oh my god, I don’t care! Just leave. I can’t stand you anymore!” She grabs two of the decorative pillows and throws them at him, one after the other. They both get him square in the face.

“Is that what all this’s about?”

She sighs. Again. “What’s ‘all this’? What d’you mean?”

“That! That noise.” He now waves _his_ index finger towards her. “And the loud music and movies and that unbearable scented candle that smells like wet dog. You want me to leave, so you’re being obnoxious on purpose!”

“Hey! Everything else? Sure, guilty. But don’t mess with my candle. I actually like it.” She glances at her fake Yankee ‘Apple pumpkin’ candle on the coffee table between them and pouts. “I don’t know, Xander. It’s getting on my nerves seeing you stare at the same page of that book for hours on end and jumping every time your phone gets a notification. I told you, he got to LA last night. Just ask him to meet up. You’re a thirty-one-year-old man, not a thirteen-year-old boy.”

It’s Xander’s turn to sigh. “And I told you, it’s creepy that you know he’s arrived. He didn’t tell me himself, so how am I supposed to ask him to meet up? ‘Oh, and by the way, my sister’s stalking your fan accounts and she saw pictures of you at LAX’?”

“Didn’t he _tell you_ he’d be here the 2nd? It’s the 3rd now. You talk literally all day long. Can’t you just ask him if he got here fine and if he wants to go out and get a few drinks?”

“We talked about it three weeks ago and I impulsively bought the tickets without letting him know, okay?” He runs his fingers through his short hair. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I never confirmed I was coming, and I don’t know how to tell him now without looking like an idiot.”

“My god, you’re not a thirteen-year-old boy… you’re a thirteen-year-old _girl_.” Georgia turns off the TV, gets up, crosses the tiny space of the living room and sits down next to him on the chaise. “Alright, here’s what you do. You call Glenne and ask her what their plans are. Then you take a shower, make yourself look less ugly and go to where he is without telling him. That way you can just play it off as a surprise. Woo!”

Xander eyes her up and down sceptically. “You’re willing to sacrifice my reputation like that, huh? You really are that tired of me?”

“What reputation? What are you talking about? Christ, just —” She grabs his phone from his pocket before he can react and sprints towards her bedroom, closing the door behind her with a thud.

“What the fuck? Georgia!” He gets to her door with two long strides and he’s in excellent physical shape but the thought of what she might do with his phone has his heart beating like a drum roll “What are you gonna do with that? If you fuck this up —”

“Shhh! Lemme concentrate…” she shouts from inside.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Xander mutters under his breath as he leans against the doorjamb, praying that she doesn’t do that much damage.

Not two minutes later, she emerges and hands him his phone without a word, then walks back towards the sofa and lays on her back.

“So?” He unlocks his phone and starts searching for the signs of her meddling. “What did you do? How did you ruin my life?”

Georgia rolls her eyes. “I told Glenne you were stuck here with me. That I’ve been sick and you have cabin fever and need to go outside for a while. She said they’re having a get together at Jeff’s and that you should go. Sent you the address.” She turns the TV back on. “I asked who was there and she mentioned several names. Only recognised a few, though. Anyway, I told her to please keep it a secret because you wanted to surprise them.”

“That’s… actually not so bad?” Xander frowns, still leaning against the doorjamb. “Thanks…”

“Sure…” Georgia then fixes her eyes on him and raises her eyebrows. “The fact that she didn’t mention Harry isn’t lost on me. I’m _sure_ he’s with them, but she just grouped them with ‘some others’. Does she not know about…?” she trails off.

“Well, I didn’t tell her. I’m guessing he didn’t either.” Xander shrugs. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Oh, you’ll go,” she says. “I will literally kill you if you don’t.”

 

**

 

Xander’s fixing himself a Cosmopolitan when he feels him approaching. They’ve only met once, but somehow his body can sense Harry’s presence already.

“Bit cliché, that, huh?” Harry says. When Xander turns around and gives him a confused look, he elaborates, “Gay man… drinkin’ a Cosmo…”

“Oh.” Xander nods. “Well, stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason and all that.”

“Right…” Harry bites his lip. “Sorry, but what are you doing here?”

Xander’s blood goes cold. He swallows thickly. “Um…”

“No, I don’t mean —” Harry shakes his head seemingly to himself. “I’m just surprised. I don’t mean it in a bad way. I kinda assumed you were just… That you weren’t coming. You didn’t say anything about coming after the first time and I was kinda scared we wouldn’t go past some awkward text-flirting, y’know?”

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you.”

Harry eyes him sceptically. “Really?”

“No, sorry.” Xander huffs a laugh. “That was my sister’s idea. To play it cool, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’ve been in LA for days. Almost a week, actually. I — You told me you’d be here and if I wanted to see you and — and I just bought the tickets. There weren’t any for yesterday or today, so…”

He can’t read Harry’s expression. He can’t decide if he sounds creepy or romantic or a third, terrible option that hasn’t occurred to him yet. Then Harry smiles. A soft stretch of his lips, completely involuntary and delicately upwards.

And for the second time in less than two minutes he asks, “Really?”

 

**

 

Jeff’s house is surprisingly… homely, Xander dumbly thinks to himself. He’s a little hazy around the edges, half from the five Cosmos he’s drank, half from Harry’s sole presence and the pleasant conversation they’ve been having for the past almost three hours. They’re perched on one of the outside lounges, looking out to the pool. They’re both barefoot letting their toes graze the slightly wet grass, and they’ve slowly shifted closer and closer towards each other. Close enough that their shoulders are touching now. It’s straight out of a teenage rom-com. Xander loves it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Nadine talking to Glenne and three other girls he doesn’t recognise. His smile falls. He doesn’t know what to make of Harry and Nadine and he doesn’t want to get in the middle. It’s one of the main thoughts that’s been nagging him for the past few weeks. At first, he’d just assumed they were pretending to date for the media, but then Nadine mentioned Harry, plans with Harry, in casual conversation. Now Xander’s just not so sure. Harry wouldn’t two-time them right under their noses, right?

“Alright, what happened? Where did you go?” Harry asks. “I know my voice’s kind of sleep-inducing, but I’m wounded.”

Xander chuckles and shakes his head. “No, sorry. I like your voice. Don’t be dumb.”

“I kinda rely on people liking my voice for a living, so thanks.” Harry smiles. “But I did lose you there at some point.”

Xander takes a deep breath and nods. “I don’t really know how to ask this, so I guess I’m just —” His gaze drifts towards Nadine without his permission and Harry must notice because he clears his throat.

“Oh, that,” he says. “Okay.”

“Yeah…” Xander does his best to look at Harry in the eye.

“Well, I mean…” Harry shrugs. “It’s not serious if that’s what you’re wondering. I was clear. She said she got it.”

“But there is something going on, then…” That’s not what Xander was expecting. A reassurance that they were just friends would’ve been more up his alley.

Harry shrugs again. “She’s cool and beautiful and we have loads of friends in common, but we know that’s it.”

“Is that what you told _her_ about _me_?”

Harry furrows his brows. “I didn’t —”

“You didn’t tell her about me at all, right? There’s nothing to tell, I guess…” Xander exhales loudly. He’s getting his heart broken by a twenty-year-old without ever sharing a kiss. “Harry, Nadine and I go back years. I understand. You’re young and gorgeous and want to just experience the world, but I’m — I can’t lose my friendship with one of the nicest people in the world for a fuck. I hope you get that.”

He begins to stand, but Harry grabs his forearm before he can.

“I’ll tell Nade now if that’s what you want.” Harry’s voice sounds, for the first time, not as steady or as calm. “I won’t sleep with her again. I don’t know. I actually hadn’t seen her since before meeting you until tonight. It’s not like that…”

“So you haven’t been fucking one of my best friends for the past few months? And you’re not trying to get into my pants now?”

“No,” Harry says firmly.

“No?”

“I mean, I have been sleeping with Nade, but I didn’t know I’d meet you back then. Or that I’d like you, not like this. The second part, _no_.”

“Harry…”

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I wanna give this a shot,” Harry says, almost in a whisper. He stands up but holds Xander’s gaze. “I wanted to have this conversation… I don’t know. _Better_. Later, without alcohol in our systems, while we were having a good time. But _there_. I don’t want to get into your pants. Or I do, but like, as part of something bigger.”

“Why did you get up?” Xander stupidly asks. He’s always focusing on the wrong parts of situations around Harry.

“Because this is a standing up conversation. I don’t know. Why are you still sitting down?” Harry crosses his arms.

It’s confusing, everything about Harry sort of is, but Xander blindly obeys and stands. “You’re weird,” he says. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

“I know,” Harry replies simply. “Let’s walk.”

So weird. This kid is so weird.

“Where?” Xander asks.

“’Round the pool, I don’t know.” Harry starts walking.

Xander follows. “You don’t seem to know much tonight.”

“I know I like you,” Harry says. And who gave him the right?

Despite the warm feeling extending through his limbs, Xander snorts. “And you call me cliché,” he says. He’s such an idiot.

“I never said it was a bad thing.”

Harry puts his hands in his pockets as he walks. He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a see-through black blouse. His hair’s pulled back in a bun. His naked feet stick out his stylish figure. He looks taller than he is, bigger and stronger than his lean figure. He also looks painfully twenty and Xander wonders how he never stopped to actually consider how young twenty is. How he dismissed it so quickly.

“Harry, I —”

“Listen, before you tell me I don’t really know what I want because I’m _so_ young. Before you tell me how complicated it’s gonna be because my schedule is so shit.” He pauses. Exhales. He pronounces ‘schedule’ funny. “Before you imply I’m flaky and that I’ll cheat or get bored. Before all of that, listen to me, okay?”

“How many times have you been through this talk already that you have all that speech memorised?” Xander asks and immediately kicks himself for his uncontrollable urge to make these ridiculous jokes in completely inappropriate situations. He bites his lip, says, “Sorry. That was mean.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Quite. Also wrong, but mainly mean.” He stops in his tracks and waits for Xander to stop as well. “If you don’t want this you should just say it. You’re sending me all these mixed signals all the time and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“We haven’t even kissed,” Xander says. Because they haven’t and this talk feels as though it belongs in high school without anything concrete to back it up.

Harry rolls his eyes, grabs Xander’s face out of nowhere, pecks his lips. “There. Now can we talk?”

Xander blushes and suppresses the urge to look around and check if someone saw. If Nadine saw, mainly.

“We can talk,” he says. “I’m just — it feels like too much of an effort for something that hasn’t even started.”

“We’ve been talking non-stop for three weeks. I haven’t been able to keep you off my mind for more than a few hours since then. It _has_ started.” Harry holds Xander’s gaze. Always holds his gaze. “It can stop if that’s what you want, but I don’t have to suck your dick or introduce you to my mum for it to start. Feelings don’t work that way.”

“Are you gonna do that, then? Suck my dick, introduce me to your mom?”

“Sure.” Harry shrugs. He’s also always shrugging. He’s too easy-going.

“What about Nadine?”

Harry quirks a sly smile. “She doesn’t have a dick.”

Xander laughs and shakes his head, but a thought sobers his mood. “Wouldn’t that make it easier for you?”

Harry shrugs again. “I don’t care.”

“Not that important. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, right?” Xander quotes. “My sister’s been stalking you. She told me. You truly don’t care.”

“I used to, not anymore.” Harry plays with the rings on his fingers, looks down for a second, then lifts his eyes once again. “I’m not gonna snog you in the middle of the street. I’m not into PDA or exposing those bits of my life. It’s pointless and just brings trouble. But I’m past caring.”

“Waseem called you closeted.”

“For Queen Waseem, anything short of wrapping myself in rainbow flags in the middle of the New York Parade is being closeted.” Harry licks his lips, shifts his weight to his other leg. “I don’t consider myself closeted or out. I don’t consider myself bi, though I know technically that’s what I am. I just can’t think of stuff, of myself, in those terms. It feels like putting myself in a box and limiting my possibilities. I do whatever I consider I can do, show whatever I feel is best to show, and fall for whoever I fall, and everything else, all the names and the labels, are just noise.”

Xander’s half in love. He’ll do whatever Harry wants him to do, from now and ‘till the day his life ends, but he’s not going to show his hand any further. Or yes, he will, but he’ll rein it in.

“You said I should listen to you before I asked any of those important questions I wanted to ask,” he says. It’s possible he just wants Harry to show _his_ cards even further. “I’m listening.”

“’Age’s just a number’ is nothing but a load of shit,” Harry says. “I’m twenty and I know I’m mature for my age, but I’m twenty. And I’ll act twenty sometimes and you’ll still be thirty-one and those times you’ll want to kill me, but I don’t think those times would ever be enough to throw away this possibility. And no, being twenty has nothing to do with knowing what I want or not. Of that I’m sure.” He licks his lips again, quirks his mouth. “My schedule is impossible and we’re also going to have issues because of it, but my schedule is always going to be impossible. I’m always — as long as people'll have me — going to be in this business and I’m not gonna miss out on having a romantic life because of it. I’m also not gonna cheat if I promise to be monogamous. I just have to find the person that’s worth the hassle. I think you could potentially be that person. It’s up to you to decide if I’m worth it as well.”

“Has anyone felt worth it before?” Xander asks. Harry’s unabashedly stroking his ego, and Xander’ll be damned if he doesn’t milk every drop of it.

Harry’s eyes harden a smidge. “No.” Then his whole face softens. He smiles, slightly. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“That obvious?”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Do you want me to get a white horse? Jesus. I’d never worked this hard for a fuck before.”

Xander studies him, the slope of his nose and ears, the pink of his mouth, the strong set of his shoulders. He’s gorgeous and lovely and Xander wants him.

“Because this isn’t a fuck,” he says.

Harry inhales deeply. “Because this isn’t a fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does Waseem even do for a living? What's his last name? Where did he come from? All I know is that he calls Harry "Hun" and that he and Xander are friends. That's enough good for me. We love Waseem.  
> Yes, Xander's a fuckboy in his texts, but he used to play lacrosse. He HAS to be a fuckboy somewhere, right? RIGHT?  
> I promise I do know the difference between "who" and "whom" and when to use the latter; it's just not realistic in dialogue lol. If there are any other typos or mistakes, please let me know cos this hasn't been beta'd.  
> The timeline is mostly as it actually happened, except I shortened Harry's stay in NYC in December for plot purposes. Also I'm pretty sure Georgia actually lives in San Francisco (at least that's what my Xarry-obsessed friends kept telling me when Harry was potted there on Xander's birthday), but I don't live in California so that sounds close enough for me. Soz.  
> Yes, the spelling is British. Sorry that's JUST HOW I SPELL. I did try to keep Americanisms for the Americans in dialogue and inner monologue, though.
> 
> Anyway, I told ya I wanted to continue. I have so many plans for this. Pray for me to finish it because I have SO MUCH ON MY PLATE RIGHT NOW. But there's been so many Xarry rumours lately that, well... For the time being, it's marked as completed because I don't know what'll happen.


End file.
